Chapter 6
Briar
I hadn’t felt this nervous about coming to work since the first time — which was saying something. Since that time I’d spent the whole drive telling myself I could turn around and never set foot in this hellhole again.
Which was unfair.
The people I worked with were actually really nice. The oldest among us in the media team was in her early thirties, and it was all very laid-back and casual, yet also serious. It was a weird vibe, but honestly, I liked it.
I had gone to school to study marketing, and at twenty-four, a social media marketing manager or influencer was a natural fit for my major. I’d lied about my name and added an extra year to my birthdate to give myself credibility, but my content on my socials and my portfolio spoke for me.
Thank the Lord I had the sense to set my social media profile to the bare minimum when I set it up.
Today, though, my portfolio wasn’t going to be the thing that kept my cover intact.
Mason had been dead set against my coming here, but when had I ever listened to my little brother? Oh, that’s right, never.
“Hi Briar, how are you feeling?” Gaby asked me.
I’d told them I had the stomach flu and would work from home, and they didn’t even question me. I kind of wanted to resent them for it, but they were so easy to dupe; I let everything working in my favor keep working in my favor.
“I’m good, thanks,” I told her, letting my hair fall over my face as I set my tote on the table and pulled out my laptop.
“Oh, you don’t need to unpack,” she told me airily as she sipped whatever ice-cold coffee concoction she had this morning. “You’re at the Den all day.”
I swallowed. “I have a lot of content already,” I argued weakly. I did not want to see Noah Matthews this morning.
“They have a new jersey or uniform or . . .” she shrugged. “Something. I don’t know. The coach was all for freshness, so . . .” She sipped her coffee.
“What is it?” I asked, pointing at the cup. I like coffee, but Gaby had an obsession that bordered on dangerous. “On a caffeine-to-sugar ratio, what are the percentages?”
Gaby grinned. “It’s a mocha lite, extra shot, caramel twist, raspberry iced cappuccino.”
I blinked. “I don’t think that can exist, can it? A mocha can’t be a cappuccino too, right? Caramel and raspberry?”
She grinned. “It tastes divine.”
I eyed the clear plastic cup. “The sugar’s going to hit you in what, ten minutes?”
She nodded. “And then the caffeine rush and—”
“You’ll crash in about forty minutes,” I told her flatly.
“Which is why I already have a preorder in for a delivery at ten.”
I picked up my tote. “The Den is looking more and more enticing.”
Her laughter carried out the door with me.
The marketing office wasn’t far from the stadium and the athletic building; I just liked to take the long way around to make sure I didn’t run into anyone I didn’t want to.
I’d had one meeting with Bobby Ray Sutherland since I was here, and I’d kept my head down throughout, while the dean did all the talking. I wouldn’t say I looked like my brother, but if you put us side by side, even with him a foot taller than me, you’d definitely see the family resemblance.
Bobby Ray Sutherland was not a stupid man. A greedy, conniving, backstabbing bastard, yes. Stupid? No. So I kept my head down, my hair over my face, and never looked up whenever he was near. I was quite simply hiding in plain sight.
I’d been so scared he’d remember me. Mason had been thrilled to get into Wrighton.
The football program was one of the best, and it was only two hours from home.
As his older sister, I was thrilled that my brother was thrilled.
I’d met Coach Douche after one of Mason’s first games.
He had given no pervy, sleazy vibes, but his eyes were dead.
It was clear, to me anyway, that he didn’t give a fuck who played for him as long as they played the way he wanted.
Mason was a defensive end, really fast off the line, and his whole intent was to get to the quarterback.
Sometimes he went off script when he saw an opportunity.
Coach Sutherland had come over as Mason was talking to my mom and me after the game and basically told him to ‘watch himself’ if he wanted to keep on playing.
My brother, never one to keep his mouth shut, had made some comment about how his play had worked.
Coach Fucker had benched him for the next two games. To ‘teach him a lesson on how he spoke to his coach.’ So, when the program didn’t stop the rumors of who had assaulted Tiffany, I knew exactly who could have shut it down, and who chose not to.
Sutherland had no idea what hell he caused either of them because he was too fucking arrogant to see past his own self-importance. There wasn’t anything that happened in his program he wouldn’t know about, and I would find a way to make him apologize for the pain he caused my brother.
I used the ID pass I’d been given to access the training facility, as they were practicing inside today. The spring game was coming up, and I guess they were going to have a new kit, along with new plays and maybe some new starters.
“Media.”
That’s what one of the assistant coaches, Kevin Campbell, called me. Media. He was middle-aged, graying at the temples, with hard eyes and a permanent scowl. The kind of man who thought buying the next size up in a shirt would disguise the extra weight he carried; it didn’t.
“Morning.”
“You’re late.”
“I don’t think so.” I bit my tongue. I wasn’t supposed to be challenging, but after one conversation with Noah Matthews, I’d forgotten the role I was playing.
“The guys were here at six.”
I waited. I’d never been here at six. I didn’t need to be here at that time.
“We want you to shoot certain stuff for us.” He started to walk away, and I took that as my cue to follow him.
Dante Spence, Dustin Slater, Noah Matthews, and Jason Moore were all sitting on the sidelines. I refused to make eye contact with any of them. A week ago there had been a professional distance. Today, it felt like something else entirely.
“As you know, these are the Lions’ stars—” Kevin started.
“Not just us,” Dante cut in smoothly. “The first team behind you are all stars.”
I saw Kevin roll his eyes. “She isn’t rolling. You aren’t on camera. You can stop with the BS.”
I glanced at the QB, saw the slight tightening around his eyes, confirming what I already suspected. He wasn’t bullshitting.
“Coach wants each of them in the new away jersey for sneak peeks of what’s coming. The spring game is soon. We want new merchandise available.” Kevin looked at me. “He said you’d be able to do this.”
“I’m a social media content creator,” I told him, keeping my gaze on his hip, not his eyes. “If you want an actual media shoot, I suggest hiring a photographer.”
Kevin rolled his eyes again. “Coach said you were to do it — Media. Just get it done. Spence, tell her what we need.” He walked away, leaving me with the four ‘stars’.
“I’ll talk to Coach Hembry,” Dante said as he stood. “Hey, Jason, I need a word with you anyway.”
“Sure.”
The tall tight end unfurled himself from the bench.
He was six-five, built wide, with a trim waist and biceps that invited drool-inducing tendencies.
His dark skin was made darker by his sleeves of tattoos, but they suited him.
Tight cornrows in an intricate pattern set off the sharp angles of his face.
He was amazingly photogenic and a fun guy. I’d taken a ton of his images for the content creation I was doing, and he’d been really helpful and friendly throughout. Zero douchebag ratings for Moore. His own social media following was insane; he knew how to play to the market.
I looked at Dustin and Noah, who were watching me.
Unlike Jason, these two could improve their social media presence.
Well, not Dustin so much. He knew the game.
Matthews, on the other hand, was quite clearly not interested in social anything.
He was so similar to my brother in certain things, it wasn’t funny.
“Have you seen the new uniforms?” I asked, aware that Kevin was talking to Coach Sutherland and pointing at me.
“It’s shit,” Dustin said flatly. “We’re the Blues, the Alabama Lions. Blue and white at home. White and blue away.”
“I’m going to guess it’s not blue?” I joked lightly. “Or white?”
“It’s yellow,” Dustin said flatly.
I glanced at Noah, who was watching me. “Yellow?”
He nodded grimly. “Yellow jersey, yellow pants.” He exchanged a look with Dustin. “Bright yellow. We’re going to look like giant bananas.”
I snorted out a laugh, my hand flying up to cover my mouth as they both looked at me, wearing identical frowns.
“I wasn’t expecting a banana reference.” I tucked my hair behind my ear, remembered where I was, and pulled it back out.
“You don’t look like him,” Noah said quietly. “I mean, you do, but it’s been, what, four years since he was here? It would be hard to place you.”
I swallowed. “Better safe than sorry.” My hands gripped my camera. I saw movement — Coach Sutherland was heading my way. “Fuck.” I raised my voice so it carried further. “Well, I better see you in your new skins.”
Dustin caught on immediately, his smile wide at my pun. “Alright, we’ll change. Then where do you want us?”
“Stadium,” Bobby Ray Sutherland said gruffly as he joined us. “I want the four of them in the stadium.” Beady eyes fixed on me. “Kevin said you were resisting.”
I bet you both get a lot of women who resist you, asshole.
“It’s not really what I do. I mean, is this just for social media content, or do you need it elsewhere?”
“Why would I need it elsewhere?” He let out an exaggerated sigh, then spoke to me as if I were a child. “You are the social media content person. I want you to post it on social media.”
“That’s—”
“That’s not what Coach Campbell said,” Noah spoke over me gruffly. “He implied it was for the store’s merchandise and more.”
Bobby Ray glowered over his shoulder. “Why the fuck would I ask her for that?”